Clock chime
by Thuvia
Summary: [Finished] What would it take to get Draco Malfoy away from the Death Eaters?
1. Chapter 1

_Dong._

Arthur blinked, confused. It was dark. What had woken him up? 

He fumbled for his wand. _"Lumos,"_ he said. 

The light revealed him, his wife, his bed, books, various disassembled Muggle devices. Nothing that might make a noise. 

_Dong._

At the second stroke, Molly sat bolt upright and began fumbling for her robe, grateful that her husband had lit up the room. 

"Molly?" Arthur asked. "What is it?" 

"Chimes," she said. "The last time I heard that, it was at Christmas." She pulled the door open and stepped out into the hall, listening. Two chimes, so far. She hoped desperately that it would stop there. That would be bad enough. 

She hurried down the hallway to the stairs. Had to get downstairs. Had to find out what had happened. Or at least, to whom. 

_Dong._

When he had moved back to London, Bill Weasley had refused to move back in with his parents. He had his own job at Gringotts, and he had no dependents; he could afford his own one-person flat. 

Or, rather, half of a two-person flat. 

He leaned over and kissed Fleur gently on the top of her head. She mumbled and cuddled closer. He smiled into the darkness, grateful for the tournament that had brought her to England, grateful that she'd liked him, grateful, in fact, for this moment in his life. Tomorrow would be more deadly serious work for the order, but now, in the night, he was safe and happy. 

_Dong._

A continent away, Bill's eldest brother was feeling anything but happy and content. Charlie, unlike his older brother, did have dependents. Several dozen winged, scaled, taloned monsters, in fact. And at the moment, one of them was ill. 

It took a lot to get a dragon's attention. Even more to make it sick enough to incapacitate it. The only think harder than hurting a dragon, in Charlie's opinion, was making it cooperate with the treatment enough to heal it. 

So at three in the morning, he was awake with a bowl of meat paste laced with curative potion, carefully spooning it into Norbert's mouth. Every four hours for the next week. He sighed, and rubbed his eyes. At this rate, he was going to be useless during the day. 

_Dong._

Percy had decided, long ago, that the best way to get ahead in the Ministry was to broadcast his loyalty, never shirk any task, and-most of all-work harder and longer than anyone else in his department. Or any other, if he could. Certainly harder and longer than Arthur Weasley ever had. 

He swallowed a burst of resentment. He hated swallowing his words-and the entire Ministry had had to do a lot of that lately. He drew the line at kowtowing to his family the way the twins seemed to want him to; luckily his mother was grateful, at least, that he was willing to talk to his relatives again. 

He bent his head lower over his reports, his quill scratching away. He studiously ignored the office gossip. It must be something impressive, and recent, to get anyone's attention at two in the morning. But it was none of his business. He had to get through the paperwork assigned to him, not gossip about break-ins at Azkaban, after all. 

_Dong. Dong._

"Did that one work?" George asked. 

Fred shook his head. "You'd think it would be simple," he complained. "Instant nosebleed? Instant puke? Instant Ton-tongue? Instant reversal of any of the above? Portable swamp? Fireworks that ignore vanishing charms? We did all that. I refuse to believe that we-Fred and George Weasley-will fail when it comes to a spell to turn someone's hair green!" 

George yawned. "Well, we'll just have to try another combination," he said. "Pass me the chameleon skin, will you?" 

_Dong._

"Mum?" Ron asked, confused, as he slipped out of his room. "Is that-" 

_"Ron!"_ Molly said, crying. "Are you all right-are you safe-" 

"I think so," he said. "Mum-is that the clock-" 

"Yes," she whispered. 

Ron pushed past his mother and ran downstairs. He stared at the clock, shocked. 

_Dong._


	2. Chapter 2

"You two stay here," Molly ordered the twins. 

Fred and George protested loudly. 

"You have to!" she shouted. "Somebody has to stay here. In case she gets away and comes home. In case someone hears something and tries to Floo us here." 

"You think we're no good!" Fred shouted angrily. 

"Just because we went to work for ourselves instead of at the Ministry," George added. 

"We're perfectly competent!" 

"Let Ron stay, he's younger than we are-" 

"QUIET!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. "I do think you two can take care of yourselves, that's why I'm leaving you two here alone; I'm not leaving Ron here by himself!" 

"But-" 

"No," Arthur said. "Please, Fred. This does need to be done. Stay here, and if you hear anything, deal with it. Stay near the fire, but try to get some sleep." He managed a weak smile. "If this situation isn't...sorted out by morning, we'll need someone to be awake enough to keep a level head, all right?" 

Fred scowled. 

George glared. 

But they both sat down at the kitchen table and watched their parents and youngest brother stepped through the Floo to Grimmauld Place. 


	3. Chapter 3

Fred looked up and winced. Someone was thumping. Someone had woken him up. When he found out who had woken him up, he was going to- 

He blinked and looked around, confused. He wasn't in his flat anymore. And the thumping was still going on. He blinked hard, trying to remember why on earth he was asleep on his mother's kitchen table. 

Oh. Right. Ginny. 

Fred sat bolt upright, suddenly awake. Someone was banging on the door. He pushed back his chair and stood up, swung around, and peeked out the window. 

He blinked. It was a house-elf. Why on earth was a house-elf at his door? 

He pulled the door open. 

"Mr. Wheezy! Mr. Wheezy!" the elf yelled, the minute the door opened. "Mr. Wheezy must come with Blinky now!" 

Fred glared down. "Why? Is it anything to do with Ginny?" 

"Yes!" the elf shouted. "Yes! Blinky is thinking that he is knowing where Ginny Wheezy is now!" 

"Thinking?" Fred demanded. "Thinking? My sister's been kidnapped and you tell me you _think_ you know where she is? Do you or don't you?" 

"Blinky is thinking that she is on a broom with Mendy's master, sir!" the elf said. "Mendy's mistress is coming to Hogwarts with Mendy, and she is saying that her master is flying through the air with Ginny Wheezy, and he is calling for help for him and Ginny Wheezy and so Blinky is coming to the Wheezies to tell them that they must be rescuing Ginny Wheezy now, sir!" 

Fred shook his head, confused, and turned and looked at the clock. 

The shortest hand now pointed squarely at "Traveling". 

"She's out of danger," he said. "She's all right." He grinned, weak with relief. 

Of course, just because she wasn't in mortal peril didn't mean she was safe. 

He recognized the elf from Hogwarts. No Hogwarts elf would lead anyone into a Death Eater trap willingly. And tricking one-Fred shook his head. He had never been able to trick a house-elf. Everything he'd ever gotten from them, he'd been given. And the elf might really knew where his sister was. He couldn't afford not to check it out. 

Besides, Arthur had said _if you hear anything, deal with it._

"Wait here," Fred said. "I need to get my brother. And my broomstick. Where are they, anyway?" 

"That way," Blinky said, pointing. "Fifty kilometers, Blinky is thinking. And up, in the air." 

"Do you know exactly where?" Fred called, walking to the couch. 

"No, Mr. Wheezy. Blinky is sorry," the house-elf said. 

"Can't be helped," he said briskly, shaking his brother. "We'll just have to look." 

"Look at what?" George asked, sleepily. He blinked, then shot upright. "Ginny-?" 

Fred gestured to the house-elf. "He says he thinks he can find Ginny." 

George jumped to his feet. Fred handed him his broom and took his hand. "Blinky, hold on to me. George, come on. We've got to Apparate closer, and then find them on broomsticks. Start by hopping fifty kilometers east." 

George nodded and the twins Disapparated. 

Behind them, the clock hands moved. 


	4. Chapter 4

"Misters Wheezy can fly there from here!" Blinky exclaimed. 

Fred nodded, threw his leg over his broom, and kicked off. Beside him, George flew. Fred watched his twin, wondering how much direction Blinky was giving him. 

Enough, apparently. 

"I think I see them," George said. 

Fred squinted upwards. There was some sort of shape above him, silhouetted against the night sky. He flew towards it. George, with Blinky directing him, got there first. 

"I think it's Ginny!" George shouted. "And there's some bloke on top of her." 

"How are they?" Fred shouted. 

"They're both unconscious, but breathing. And I can't see any other problems. Wonder how they got off the ground?" In a more thoughtful tone, George continued, "Good broomstick. I heard these new ones have charms on them so if you pass out, they stay under you and sort of drift down." 

Fred nodded. "Lucky for them, huh? I hope-" 

He stopped as he pulled up along the broomstick's other side. 

"Fred?" George asked. "What's wrong?" 

Fred swallowed and looked at the broom next to him. Shiny new broom. Unconscious Ginny draped over the front of it-at least, George said it was Ginny. He could only see the back of her head. Slumped over her was another person. Pale hair, nice robes, probably looked fine from the other side, but from here- 

"George," Fred squeaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "George. The other one, the one who isn't Ginny. He's not fine. He's got a broken arm." 

"Are you sure?" George asked. 

"Yes, I'm sure. I can see the bloody bone!" 

There was a pause. "Oh," said George. 

"Yes," said Fred. 

"We've got to get them-" 

"-to St. Mungo's. Do you remember-" 

"-what Madame Pomfrey told us-" 

"-about moving hurt people? Yes, I do," Fred replied. He swallowed, suddenly very grateful that George was there. He could always think better with his twin nearby. He pulled his wand out. _"Petrificus totallus!"_ he said, pointing at the broken blond figure. 

"Better get Ginny-" George began. 

"-just in case-" 

"-she has an injury-" 

"-we can't see." Fred nodded and waited as George cast the spell again. "Now we just-" 

"-need to get them-" 

_"-down."_

Fred swallowed. Three people was a bit many to put on a broomstick-but they weren't going anywhere but straight down. And someone had to steer Ginny's broomstick, and there was no way they could separate the two. Not when the top one so clearly needed to be petrified. "Spot me?" he asked his twin. 

George's broom dropped. Fred inhaled, reached over, grabbed the broom handle just in front of Ginny, and threw his leg across the back of the other broom. He almost slipped- 

George's hands came up, pushing him back. "Down," Fred commanded. 

The broom dropped, faster than Fred might have liked, but slower than his broom would have. _Good broom,_ Fred thought irrelevantly. He shivered. His left side was all wet. Fred looked down at the dark streaks across his left arm. _Oh, no,_ he thought. _ So much blood loss. I hope the hospital can help him._

The ground bumped against his feet. Fred lowered himself to his knees, and the broomstick to the ground, as George and Blinky landed, holding his broom. 

"Now-" said Fred. 

"-we just untangle them-" 

"-and then Apparate to the hospital." Fred leaned sideways. "Let's get him onto his back." 

It took all three of them to get the broom away from the hurt man and to get Ginny out of his arms. Fred slid his arms under the stranger and stood. George already held Ginny. "Blinky, do you know-" 

"-where St. Mungo's is?" 

"Because I don't think-" 

"-that I can Apparate me, and Ginny, and you." 

"Can you get there-" 

"-on your own?" 

"Yes, sirs!" Blinky said. "Blinky will meet the Wheezies at the hospital door!" 

Fred nodded and Disapparated. 


	5. Chapter 5

The Healer pulled out her wand and tapped Ginny on the shoulder. "Finite incantatem," she said firmly. 

Ginny stretched. "She's fine," the healer said to George. "A few bruises, and a sleeping spell. You were right to petrify her, but there wasn't really anything wrong. She'll probably be fully awake in about ten minutes." 

George nodded and looked around. "I suppose I should owl my family, let them know that she's been found," he said. 

"FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY! WHERE ARE YOU?" came his mother's voice, from the waiting room. 

"Or not," said George. 

The Healer raised an eyebrow. "Go talk to her, lad," she advised. 

George stepped through the door. "Mum!" he said. "So you saw the clock-" 

"OF ALL THE STUPID, IRRESPONSIBLE TRICKS TO GET UP TO!" Molly Weasley shouted. "TAKING OFF WITHOUT TELLING ANYONE, WITHOUT LEAVING SO MUCH AS A NOTE-" 

An orderly tapped her arm. "Ma'am, you're in a hospital. Could you would please not shout in here?" 

Molly Weasley swallowed hard. "You two take off without telling anyone, without asking anyone-what if whoever had Ginny had caught you too? We might have had to hunt for all three of you-to rescue more hostages-which would have been much harder-worried sick-FRED! OH, MERLIN, YOU'RE HURT!" 

George turned to see his twin. His eyes widened. Fred was covered in blood. 

"Mum, wait!" Fred said. "I'm fine, it's not mine." 

"THEN GINNY-GINNY'S HURT-" 

"Ginny's fine, Mum," George said. "Just a sleeping spell and some bruises." 

"THEN WHO-" Mrs Weasley began, pushing past Fred into the second room. 

A Healer was bent over the still blond figure in the bed. A clear plastic bag hung on a stand; a tube ran down, ending in a needle. The Healer gripped the pale man's good arm, and quickly pushed the needle in. The bag was full of a dark red fluid. George stared at it, confused. 

The Healer stood and nodded to the Weasleys. "Ah, good," he said. "We've got the bleeding under control, and the transfusion seems to be working fine. I'll come back in a few hours to regrow his left arm." 

"Why," asked Mrs Weasley, "are you putting a needle in his arm?" 

"Blood transfusion," the Healer explained. "It's a Muggle technique." 

"MUGGLE TECHNIQUE!" Mrs Weasley demanded. "You're using MUGGLE MEDICINE? WHY?" 

The healer frowned. "Sometimes it's the best solution," he said. "He's mostly in danger from blood loss, now. And there's no potion or salve or charm that works better than just putting blood back in him. And since you don't need magic to do it, the Muggles are better at it than we are." He nodded at the bag. "Now, if you'll excuse me? Perhaps you'd better go tell the registration desk who my patient is." 

George stepped closer to the bed. "Who was it, anyway?" 

"You're not going to believe this," Fred said. 

"Try me." 

"It's Malfoy. It's Draco bloody Malfoy." 

"Fred, your language!" scolded Mrs Weasley. 

"That wasn't strong language, Mum, that was a description," Fred said. 

"Should we go check on Ginny?" George suggested. 

"Malfoy. Bloody _ Malfoy,"_ Fred muttered, softly enough that his mother couldn't hear. "So was he rescuing her or kidnapping her?" 

"I don't know. Maybe we should ask Blinky," George replied. 

"I don't think he knows." 

"Mm." 

George looked at the reception room. It looked like the entire family had arrived. Plus Hermione Granger and Dean Thomas. 

Mr Weasley stepped forwards. "That was very foolish, boys," he scolded. "Foolish. You might have been captured as well-" 

"Dad?" said a voice behind him. Mr Weasley turned around. Over his shoulder, George could see Ginny. 

"Mum?" she continued. "Why am I in a hospital, and why are my robes covered with blood?" 


	6. Chapter 6

"So, to summarize," said Ginny, "I vanished last night, and the first you heard of it was when the clock started chiming." 

"We had most of the Order looking for you," Ron interjected. "Dumbledore took me off to help him with scrying and stuff. Hermione was there too." 

Hermione nodded. 

"Then Blinky showed up at the Burrow," said Fred. "He said something about how someone's mistress was at Hogwarts, and that her old master was also hurt and had Ginny." 

"Has anyone checked out Blinky's story?" George asked. "If Narcissa Malfoy really is at Hogwarts, then maybe she knows something." 

"When we got here, Dumbledore was here too," said Ron. "He listened to Blinky and took him back to Hogwarts. He said he'd be back, though." 

"Good for him," George said. "Anyway, after Blinky showed up, we went and fetched Ginny and Malfoy, and brought them here." 

"And whoever took me kept me unconscious the whole time," added Ginny. "I'm beginning to suspect that I wasn't even supposed to know I was gone." 

Hermione, who had been studying her hands, looked up. "That makes sense," she said. 

"It does?" 

Hermione looked at Ginny. "What's happening in two weeks?" 

Ginny frowned. "Two weeks?" 

"That the Malfoys would be particularly interested in." 

Ginny blinked. "The trial?" she asked. "But what does that have to do with me?" 

Everyone stared at her. 

"Um, Ginny, you're a witness," Ron pointed out quietly. 

"I am?" 

"You were at the Department of Mysteries when he was caught!" 

"I was? When was I at the Department of Mysteries?" 

"Don't you remember?" Ron demanded. "It was last June! You, me, Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Luna went to the Department of Mysteries and were attacked by a bunch of Death Eaters! He was there, you saw him!" 

"I don't remember that. We rode thestrals somewhere, and-Ron-" Ginny's eyes widened. _"I can't remember where we went."_

"That's it," said Hermione, leaning back. "Narcissa knows you're a witness. And she probably grabbed you to mess with your memory. From what it sounds like, she succeeded. Ginny, trust us. You did go to the Department of Mysteries. And Lucius Malfoy and a lot of others attacked us there." 

"I don't think she succeeded," said Bill suddenly. 

"Oh?" 

"How many witnesses are there to say that Ginny was at the Department of Mysteries? Just wiping her memories will tell everyone that she's been meddled with. She'd have to replace them with something. If your conjecture is true, and Narcissa really was planning on turning Ginny into a favorable witness, she would have been planning to slip her back in without us noticing. From what you say, Ginny, it sounds like she was interrupted." 

"Interrupted? By _what?"_

"I don't know," said Bill. 

Percy looked up, cleared his throat, and swallowed. Mrs. Weasley looked at him. "Did you have something you wanted to say, dear?" she asked. Percy nodded. 

"Well, I was at the Ministry last night," he said. 

"Yes?" his mother said. 

"Well, as it was night, not many people were there, and the ones there were all talking about something that happened in Azkaban." He paused. 

"Azkaban?" his mother prompted. 

"Yes, um. It didn't seem relevant, until, um, a minute or two ago," Percy continued nervously. Nobody interrupted him. This was the longest speech he'd made to his family in over a year, and nobody would risk stopping him. 

"A Dementor came back last night. They tried to stop it, but it knew Azkaban better than any of the guards did. Besides, Dementors are hard to stop." 

All of the younger Weasleys nodded. They had been at Hogwarts when the Dementors were there. 

"Anyway, it got into a cell and Kissed one of the prisoners, then left. I don't know that it was Malfoy, but it was one of the recent prisoners, they said." 

"But-" said Ron. "If the Dementors are working for You-Know-Who, then why would they sneak in and Kiss one of his prisoners?" 

"They Kissed Barty Crouch," Hermione pointed out. 

"Yes, but Fudge brought them to him," Ron said. 

"It's true..." Hermione trailed off. "Maybe he knew something? Something Voldemort didn't want anyone else to find out?" 

"Why only get the one, then? Or why not break him out? They did it once, surely they can do it again. Or at least try, before they go around killing their own people out of hand." 

"Maybe...I don't know. Maybe he did something You-know-who didn't like?" 

Arthur Weasley frowned. "What, though? Made a major mistake, bad enough to die for it? It's hard to see Lucius Malfoy voluntarily doing anything that might hurt himself, and it's hard to think of anything that would hurt Voldemort and not him." 

"Maybe he was going to join our side?" Molly suggested. 

Everyone looked at her. 

"We are talking about the same Lucius Malfoy, right?" Fred asked. 

"The one I know gave our sister a book that almost got her killed," George added. 

"Not to mention leading the attack in the Department of Mysteries," Fred added. 

"But what else could it be?" Molly asked. 

"I don't know," Percy said. "I don't even know if it was Malfoy. I am going to go find out. I suggest that the rest of you get something to eat." 

"But we have to figure out what happened!" Hermione said. 

Percy raised an eyebrow. "In that room is the boy with the answers. The Healers assure us that soon enough he will be conscious. _ In a few hours, we are going to have a lot more information than we do now. _ Nobody's going to die if it takes us that long to figure it out. Just wait." 


	7. Chapter 7

He opens his eyes. 

Unfamiliar dark empty room, candlelight shining in from the corridor. Mysterious Muggle device in the corner. Plain purple blanket covering him from chest to feet. 

He tries to remember what happened. 

_Oh._

He pulls the blanket back. Cast around his left arm. Thin white robe. Bandage around his right elbow. Strange; he doesn't remember hurting that. 

_Mother._

Is she here? Or is she lost? Dead? He's already lost one parent- 

Sit up. Turn. Feet on floor. Cold stone floor; he wishes for slippers. 

Stand. 

No. 

Try again. 

Stands up. Stays up this time. Cradles his cast in his good arm. 

Opens the door. It is difficult; his hands are occupied. Steps out. An empty corridor. Picks a direction. Left. 

He walks. Eight steps. Ten- 

He closes his eyes, dizzy. Slumps against the wall. Sits on the floor. Breathes. 

He tries to stand again. Nothing to push on. He can't get up. 

Can he crawl? 

No free arms-one in a cast, one holding the cast. 

He lies down on the cold stone floor. 

At the end of a corridor, a door opens. 

"Malfoy?" a voice asks. 

He looks up. 

Granger. 

"You should be in bed!" she scolds, and steps back out. Returns with some Weasleys. Three, four, maybe more. He can't count. One of them has green hair. 

They pick him up. Carry him back down the corridor. He wants to cry. It was so hard to get this far, and now they are taking it all away. 

They put him back in the hospital bed. Granger takes the blanket. Covers him. 

"Mother," he says. "Narcissa." 

"She's here," Granger says. "She's going to be fine." 

He nods. "Ginny?" he asks. He doesn't remember her being hurt, but- 

"She's fine too," Granger says. 

He nods. Fine. Everyone's fine. Except for Lucius. Who will never be fine again. 

_Father..._

He closes his eyes. Turns away from his enemies...no. His old enemies. His new allies. He hopes. 

Because he can't go back. Can't be a Death Eater anymore. Not after what Lucius did. After what he did. 

He falls back into sleep. 


	8. Chapter 8

When Draco woke again, sunlight was streaming in through his window. He looked to the side, slowly. 

Ron Weasley sat in a chair, reading. 

Was he there to keep watch on Draco? He had to be. Nobody else was there. So was he there to make sure that Draco didn't do anything stupid, or anything malicious? His memories were hazy, but he rather thought he might have actually tried to walk around the hospital, and not just dreamed it. It hadn't worked, if he recalled correctly. But he'd found out... 

"Is my mother all right?" he asked. 

Weasley put his book away. "She's still unconscious," he said. "But the Healers are optimistic that she will be all right." 

"And-your sister? Is she all right?" 

"Yes, she's fine. She's asleep now." 

Draco looked at the ceiling. "I can imagine." He paused. The Slytherin in him was already analyzing the situation, trying to determine the most useful path. Or the safest. 

At this point, that meant convincing the Weasleys, Dumbledore, Potter, and their friends that he was on their side. That meant gaining their trust. That meant being not only honest, but provably so. Telling them the true story, before he knew what they knew, so that his story would be easy to check. So he'd better get it out now, before asking questions-before talking to his mother, even. 

Besides, he doubted he could walk anyway. 

"Do you want the story now, or do you want to get the rest of your family first?" 

"Most of them are asleep," Weasley replied. "We had a rough night. So if you don't mind having to tell it twice..." 

Draco nodded. 

"It starts...I suppose it starts..." He swallowed. They weren't going to like this. But really, what else could he say? 

"I suppose it starts with us kidnapping your sister," he said. "We weren't going to hurt her. We just wanted my father back, and the only way we saw to do that was to change what the witnesses saw. We were going to bring her right back." 

"So what happened to interrupt you?" Weasley asked. 

"My aunt," Draco said. "And some goon-Mulciber, I think his name was. They showed up at the manor when we were halfway done." He began to talk, quickly, getting it out. He didn't particularly want to remember, but... 


	9. Chapter 9

Narcissa and Draco had set the stunned Ginny on their dining-room table. On the sideboard, there had been a full Pensieve. Narcissa had spent weeks creating the memories they were going to give to Ginny. Draco had designed half of them. It wouldn't be long now. Fifteen minutes to take the original memories out, barely five to put the new ones in, and Ginny could be put right back in the garden where they'd found her. Twenty minutes wasn't that long, especially at three in the morning. The Weasleys almost certainly wouldn't notice that she was gone. 

Draco stood and left. He had a good ten minutes left to wait, and he was bored. Besides, he had to use the loo. 

He heard the doorbell chime. He washed his hands, dried them, and left. 

He could hear voices in the dining room. He hoped that the visitor was a Death Eater. But it had to be; the house-elf wouldn't let anyone else in. 

He heard voices. He stopped just outside the dining room, listening. 

"So you've got the Weasley," said a familiar voice. Aunt Bellatrix? What was she doing there? 

"Yes," Narcissa said. "I'm correcting the evidence for use at Lucius's trial." 

"I think our Lord might have a better use for her," Bellatrix said. "You'd better give her to me." 

Draco blinked. 

"More important than releasing my husband-not to mention nine others-from Azkaban?" Narcissa asked. "Her use for that will diminish if she's not returned to her family before they notice she's gone. And we haven't much time." 

Bellatrix giggled. "Trials, Narcissa? Evidence? Persuading the Ministry? You'd have to be demented to risk that route, when the Dementors are here to fetch them back." 

"It's too risky," Narcissa said. "I am trying this first. Lucius-" 

"Lucius is dead," Bellatrix said calmly. "I had him killed this morning. I found out about his treachery, you know." 

Draco froze. 

The next thing he heard was a loud thump, a snap, and Narcissa's voice, screaming, _"Draco, run!"_

"Ickle Narci shouldn't have fought her big sister," Bellatrix said. "Now the nasty man will have to hold her, while Auntie Bella _finds_ her baby boy." Draco heard footsteps. 

He looked around the hallway frantically. He had no doubt what that _find_ meant. He didn't think he could reach a door in time, except for the one to the dining room. Which wasn't much use-unless- 

He slid behind the open door as Bellatrix came out. She walked straight for the stairs and went up. 

_ Oh, we are so fucked,_ Draco thought. No wand. He couldn't possibly take on Mulciber and Bellatrix in direct combat. He and his mother had to escape the manor. 

And he had to take Ginny with him. He could just picture the results if he didn't. "Oh, yes, Dumbledore, you should protect me; I kidnapped a Weasley and then left her in the hands of two homicidal Death Eaters who wanted to kill me too." No. If he didn't want to run right into Azkaban, he had to rescue the girl. 

Exits. How to get out of the Manor? Well, there was his broomstick. And the Portkeys. Which led to Crabbe's, Goyle's, the Dark Lord's hiding place- 

One Portkey, maybe, that he could trust. And he couldn't see any way for both him and his mother to use it. 

He swallowed, and went for the kitchen. 

Mendy was there. He hissed in relief, then put his finger to his lips. The house-elf looked up. He knelt, and whispered instructions. She nodded, and vanished. 

He licked his lips and boosted himself out the window. Grateful, for once, for Malfoy Manor's shrubbery, he crept to the dining room window and peered in. 

Narcissa lay, crumpled on the floor, at one end of the room. Ginny still lay on the table. Mulciber was studying Narcissa. Draco hadn't seen him before, but he recognized the type-Crabbe and Goyle were exactly the same. Easy to fool. He hoped. 

_ Here goes,_ he thought. He took a deep breath, wishing desperately for Vincent, Gregory, Pansy, or anyone. 

_"Expelliarmus!"_ he shouted. What was it that Weasley had put on him in Umbridge's office, that had been so effective? Oh yes-he cast the Bat-Bogey hex, and then took another breath. 

_"Accio broomstick!"_ He waited for four endless seconds, until his broom slammed into his hand. 

He looked back inside. Mendy ran into the dining room with a battered old book clutched in a tea towel. She looked up at Ginny, shook her head, and knelt beside Narcissa. A moment later they both vanished. 

_"Accio Weasley!"_ Draco shouted. He'd been hoping that Mendy would be able to rescue both Ginny and Narcissa-but no. So he'd have to do it. "Damn it-_accio! ACCIO!"_

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Ginny floated across the room. He put his boot through the window, smashing it, reached through, and grabbed her. He draped her over the broomstick in front of him and kicked off. 

As his head cleared the shrubbery, he caught sight of his aunt. She was just turning towards him. She reached for her wand. 

_"Mutithanatos_ Draco Malfoy!" he screamed. 

Bellatrix hissed. Oh yes, she'd been planning to kill him. _"Multithanatos_ Ginevra Weasley," he added thoughtfully. He turned his broom and shot away. 

Bella's parting shot slammed into his left arm. His fingers twitched in surprise, and he dropped his wand. He looked down. Whatever she had done, it hadn't drawn blood. And he didn't think he could afford to go back for his wand. He just had to fly away. 

It took him at least ten minutes to wonder where to go. The Burrow would perhaps be good, except that Narcissa had Apparated there and back. Hogwarts was too far away. Diagon Alley? St. Mungo's? The Ministry? He nodded. They would know where the Weasleys were. 

He pulled on his broomstick, turning it left- 

_Ow._

His right hand clenched tightly around the broomstick handle. His left arm dangled limply. He turned to look at it. 

Apparently Bellatrix had broken it. But she hadn't deformed it at all-just caused a neat fracture in the bone. No visible problems, and not much pain, until he'd tried to move it. 

And then the sharp bone edges had torn a hole in the muscle. 

"Bloody hell," he whispered. 

Blood was spurting out. And he couldn't stop it. He didn't have his wand, and he needed his other arm to steer the broom. He swallowed, suddenly very, very grateful that Narcissa had insisted on smothering his broom in charms to keep anyone from falling off. 

"Faster," he whispered. He had to get to St. Mungo's. Fast. Or he would probably exsanguinate there in the air. He concentrated and flew. 

He looked down at his arm. At the rate blood was coming out. 

_I'm not going to make it,_ he thought. 

He shivered. It was cold, and getting colder. Or maybe it was just that he was all wet. 

"Help," he whispered. "Help me. Somebody." 

The stars swirled across his vision. Silly of them. They should stay put. 

"Someone help me," he wailed. "I'm here, in the sky, I've got Ginny Weasley, and I need someone to come rescue me. Somebody-anybody-Father-Mother-Vincent-" His head sagged. He rested it on Ginny's hair, exhausted. "Gregory-Mendy-anybody-" 


	10. Chapter 10

"And the next thing I remember," Malfoy finished, "I was here." 

Ron nodded. "Fred and George found you and brought you here." 

"And then the Healers gave me a blood-replentishing potion, I presume?" 

"Er," Ron said. "Not exactly." Oh, this arrogant pureblood wasn't going to like the next part at all. 

Malfoy turned and looked at him. "What do you mean?" he asked. 

"Well, blood-replentishing potions work well on people who are short on blood, but not in too much danger, and you'd lost so much-well, they decided the best way was to, er, replace the blood you lost." 

"Replace it?" Malfoy demanded. "With _what?_ Did they squeeze it all out of my robes or something?" 

"No, no-not your blood. Another person's blood. They took a little bit of blood from four or five other people and put it all in you." 

"Oh." Malfoy leaned back. "So I've got someone else's blood in me? Whose? Yours?" 

"They got it from a blood bank. It's a thing Muggles run. See, you don't actually need magic to move blood from one person to another, and, well, if you don't have magical healing at your disposal, then you run into a lot more situations where you want to replace a hurt person's blood with another person's blood, and so the Muggles are very, er, good at this sort of thing..." Ron's voice trailed off. 

"Muggles," Malfoy said. "Do you mean to stand there and tell me that I have a load of _muggle blood_ inside me?" 

"Yes," Ron admitted. 

Malfoy looked at the ceiling. Ron wondered what he _wasn't_ saying, in front of Muggle-lover Arthur Weasley's son. He was probably upset. Honestly, Ron admitted to himself, it would upset _him_ to have Muggle blood in his veins, even if the Healers assured him that it wouldn't deplete his magical ability... 

"What was that spell you cast on Bellatrix?" he asked. 

"Spell...oh. _Multithanatos._ It's not a spell. I was activating a very old spell. Basically, it meant that if I died on the Manor in the next hour or so, I would...explode. Taking Bellatrix with me. It's one of those powerful spells you have to set up in advance." 

"And...why was she there?" 

Malfoy was silent for a moment. "I don't actually know. But I can guess." He paused. "Chess or checkers, Weasley." 

Ron blinked. "Um...I'm not sure you can sit up." 

"No, no. It's just something my father said. You see, in chess, if your opponent takes your king, the game is over, but in checkers, they have to capture all of your pieces to defeat you. My father remembered what happened last time, Weasley. He remembered how narrowly he escaped-" Malfoy swallowed hard. "-escaped Azkaban. And he thought he probably wouldn't, a second time, if the Dark Lord fell again. So if anything happened to _him..."_

There was a pause, as Malfoy struggled to collect his thoughts. 

"My father made plans, I think, so that if anything happened to the Dark Lord, then his followers wouldn't fall apart and betray each other again. He had to do this in secret, of course-_he_ would not tolerate any resources wasted on contingency plans; _he_ couldn't get any benefit from them. So Father probably set things up so that if anything happened to the Dark Lord, then he would end up on top of the Death Eaters. 

"And if _he_ heard the faintest rumor that someone was setting something like that up, there would be no way he'd believe that Father _wasn't_ planning to assassinate him." 

There was a pause. 

"He may even have been right," Malfoy said, very, very quietly. Ron looked at him. 

Malfoy turned his face to the wall and, to all appearances, fell asleep. 

FIN

* * *

Author's Notes: After reading enough stories based on the premise that Draco would leave the Death Eaters during the war, I started thinking about possible ways this could happen. Frankly, I don't see Rowling's Draco deciding to change sides because he thinks the Death Eaters are wrong. In the first place, I don't think he thinks they're wrong. In the second place, I doubt he cares. He tells Harry that he has picked "the losing side", not "the wrong side". Draco wants what is best for him, and him alone, and not the rest of the Wizarding world. 

So what might get Draco away from the Death Eaters? Well, either he would have to think that they were going to lose, or he would have to be in immediate personal danger from the Death Eaters. This story, obviously, is based on that second premise. 


End file.
